I was listening to NPR yesterday and they had a cool feature on time. The first part was kind of an introduction to General Relativity and the trippy mindfuck that it is (the faster you go, the slower time moves for you, how time is a property of space, energy and matter etc.).
The second segment questioned whether a turtle and a hummingbird experience time in the same sense. Does a humming bird think “man, I’m hauling ass!” while a turtle thinks “fuck, I wish I weren’t so slow.” Intuition says no, and so do the results of years of a particular neurologist's studies. He studied people who would periodically go into spells where they would experience time either more quickly or more slowly. For example, one subject once took 2 hours to wipe his nose. To the observer, he looked perfectly still. When the subject was questioned about what he was doing, he had no concept that he was “existing” so slowly and it wasn’t until he was presented with video of himself moving at a glacial pace for a couple hours that he was convinced (he was "thunderstruck" by the revelation). Methinks this sounds more like a biochemical phenomenon than anything else, but it invokes some cool thoughts about the nature of time and demonstrates how it’s not a linear constant but depends on the observer.
I thought the coolest part was the third segment which contained excerpts from a documentary on elite athletes. The excerpted portion contained interviews of sprinters. The runners talked about the mental process they went through prior to and after the starting gun went off. How once the gun goes off, the nature of time changed, how the sound of the crowd seemed to disappear and everything seemed to move in slow motion, but that they were entirely present in every instant of the interval.
Does time itself change for one when he achieves excellence in a pursuit? Is this what it means to be in “the zone.” When I was in college (over 10 years ago), my primary means of transportation on campus was my skateboard. There was a huge hill between my dorm and the center of campus. I would bomb that thing 20 times a week. It was fun as hell. It was on this really broad walkway with all kinds of berms and features to slide, grind and rail. I remember powersliding and being conscious of the friction between the wheels and the asphalt and making subtle adjustments to it by shifting my weight or “lightening” myself – actually thinking about how long to draw the slide out while I was in the slide.
A couple years ago I was on campus and happened to have a skateboard in my car. I could not believe what a chaotic, controlled disaster it was. It was all I could do to stay on the board and I couldn’t imagine having any sense of control moving at that speed. As a result, I felt like the slightest body motion resulted in an incredibly dramatic control input. I ended up in this very defensive crouch where my only objective was to keep my teeth and bones in tact.
Hearing that NPR piece made me reflect on my experience in a new way. On flat ground, I could still ollie on to park benches and do less technical tricks pretty consistently. The difference was with the perceived speed of the event (and given the relative nature of time, what is the difference between perceived speed and actually speed?).
I’ve experienced similar phenomena in boxing, basketball and surfing and I’ve kind of become a junkie for it. I've also spent what felt like minutes drawing something and learned I'd missed two meals. One thing is consistent, I really enjoy the sensation of time slowing down and I think I'm more fulfilled in life when it's happening with some regularity. Still trying to get there on skis.
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